The Cub Runneth Over…
(A badger cub at Temple Balsall, 3rd June 2025…)
A calm evening, the copse was cool and shaded
And the food morsels spread about attracted
A trio of magpies, the snatchers, which flew
Untidily onto the parched and undulating
Ground like thieves raiding a candy store.
The marginal, setting sunlight soon faded
But at least four badgers surfaced, distracted
No doubt by the sustenance scattered anew
Amongst weeds, nettles and grasses, creating
A foraging feast across the stony, woodland floor.
At last though, from behind, rushing like an excited
Puppy with gay abandon, a running cub emerged, drawn
To food dropped inside an untidy gaping hole, sighted
A metre or so from where I stood, silent and forlorn.
It scrabbled, it scrambled, it squeezed into the space,
It scratched, it skittered, it struggled on apace;
It fed, it fidgeted, it fiddled testily around,
Fearlessly, frantically and frenetically, it dug underground…
Pete Ray
4th June 2025…
It was a strange experience when the cub raced towards where I was standing, oblivious to my presence.
It was eager to locate the food left just in the hole, which was only slightly bigger than itself.
It forced itself inside, ate heartily and began to dig to find more hidden morsels.
Another cub appeared too but it turned back before reaching the hole…
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